


Pushing All my Buttons

by knittingknerdy



Series: Steve Rogers One Shots [2]
Category: Captain America, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Lots of Cursing, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittingknerdy/pseuds/knittingknerdy
Summary: Steve and you push all the wrong and right buttons





	Pushing All my Buttons

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of cursing. Sorry

 

“Fucking son of a bitch!” you shout as you ungracefully deposit yourself on the floor of the quinjet.  You take a moment to steady your breathing before speaking into your com. “Guys, I, ah. Fuck!  I made it back to the jet.”  The sharp burst of pain as you shift to a more comfortable position leaves you muttering more curse words.  

One of the Hydra agents had gotten the drop on you.  He was large and managed to land several hits and left a nasty gash along your ribs on your right side.  Thankfully, Natasha heard the commotion and helped you take him down before sending you back to the jet.  Pride almost prevented you from retreating, but you had completed your assignment and didn’t want to keep Natasha from hers by arguing.  

You tried to lift your arm to get a better look at the cut, but hissed in pain before it could get above shoulder level.  You leaned your head back against the wall.  Feeling dizzy and nauseated from the pain and blood loss, you tried to focus on breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth in an effort to quell the churning of your stomach.  You were so focused that you didn’t notice Steve entering the jet.  When he said your name, you jumped in surprise causing another wave of pain.

“Oh fucking hell!  Shit, Steve, try not to sneak up on me next time.”  You groaned again as you tried to make yourself comfortable.  When you looked up, he had on his dad look.  Eyebrow cocked, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched.  You could just feel the lecture welling up inside of him.  “I’ve had enough of people sneaking up on me today.  And I don’t need your fucking lecture about it.”

This earned you a deep sigh from the super soldier.  You smirked as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.  This is how most of your interactions went.  You did something that he considered out of line and then he would yell at you about it.  You did your best following his orders, but sometimes situations required improvisation.  He didn’t like when you did that.  You got the impression he didn’t like a lot of things about you.  

You groaned again and you pressed your hand to the open cut on your side.  You heard him gasp when you pulled your hand back covered in blood.  “Y/N, you’ve just been sitting here bleeding?  There’s a med kit for this sort of thing.”

You stared at him incredulously.  “I’m not an idiot.  I know that.  Shit, I barely made it back to the jet.”

“Then why didn’t you call someone to help you? I swear…” he muttered as he walked over to the med kit and set it on the exam table at the back of the quinjet.  It’s set up for such occasions, but gets used more often for quick naps.  “Can you get up on the table?”

You knew you should resist a sarcastic comment, but that would be like trying to convince the sun to rise in the west. “Of course. Let me hop right up there.  I was just on the floor because, um.  I feel too much like shit to think of something good.”  You tried to laugh, but it only made your chest bloom with pain again.  You suck in air sharply at the sensation.  

“A simple ‘No, Steve.  Could you help me up?’ would have sufficed.”  

“Was that a joke from Captain Tightass?  Shit, smartass, Captain Smartass.  I’m blaming the blood loss for that one.”  You were almost sure you saw a hint of a smile as he knelt down beside you.

“I’m going to lift you up.  This is probably going to hurt.  Think you can refrain from shouting curse words at me when I do it?”

You huff in annoyance.  “Probably not-Ahhh, fucking cocksucker!”  Without warning he scooped you up and placed you gently on the table.  

“That wasn’t going to hurt less if I gave you time to brace yourself.”  

“You are an asshole.”

“I don’t think that is true.  Now, uh, how does your suit?  I need to get to your cut.”

“Can you just cut it off?  I don’t want to fuck with it and I’m pretty sure it’s ruined anyway.”  

“I don’t have a knife.  I can try to rip it?”

“Ooo, kinky.”  You hear his sharp intake of breath and look over your shoulder to smirk at his annoyance.  But the look on his face is a bit darker and unreadable.  You lay your head back down as a wave of nausea washes over you.  “Just do it, Steve.  I’m feeling sick.”  You wince a bit at the sound of tearing fabric.  Through the haze of pain you manage to be impressed.  Your suit isn’t bullet proof, obviously, but it isn’t flimsy.  And Steve managed to rip it open with his bare hands.  

“Shit, Y/N.”  His voice seems strange and far away.  You want to say something, but all you can think of how nice it would be to sleep.  The last thing you hear is Steve saying your name.  

\--

You wake up back at the tower on a hospital bed.  Your body screams in protest as you try to sit up.  

“Hey, Y/N. Take it slow.”  You huff impatiently as Bruce rushes over to you.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I feel fine.”  You offered him a weak smile.  “I looked like this before I left.” 

“Very funny.  You are free to go back to your room and rest.  We got you stitched up and nothing is broken.  I would recommend a hot shower, some pain medication, and lots of sleep.  You lost a lot of blood.”  

“Yes, mom.”  

Bruce rolls his eyes but helps you out of bed.  “You feel ok?”

“Yeah.”  You look down at the scrubs they dressed you in.  “Suit ruined?”

“Well, the knife did a decent number on it, but Steve finished it off.”

“Oh yeah, it was getting a bit fuzzy at that point.”

You thanked Bruce before slowly making your way to your room.  You had to stop a few times to rest.  You were surprised that Bruce let you leave, but you probably would have snuck out when his back was turned anyway.  He was probably aware of that fact.  

“Where do you think you’re going?”  You heard a low voice growl behind you.

You were leaning on the wall and used it for support before you turned around.  Of course it was Steve.  “I’m playing hide and seek with Clint.  Have you seen him?”  

“Does Bruce know you left medical?  You look awful.”

“Well, aren’t we Prince Charming?  And yes, Bruce said I could leave.”  You sigh with annoyance, but you really wish you were in your room already.  “I promise, I was just going to my room.  I feel like shit and I want to shower and sleep.”

“Can I at least help you get there?”

Normally, you would tell Steve to go fuck himself.  You were perfectly capable of walking down a hallway.  But you really did feel awful and you weren’t feeling up to the fight that would inevitably ensue. “Yes, please.” You say quietly

You were confused by the smirk that crossed his face.  “Did you just say please?  Now I’m worried you might actually be dying.”  

You groan as he lifts your left arm around his shoulders.  You brace yourself as he reaches around you, but he manages to avoid your injury.  

“Is this ok?  I can carry you?” Steve asks.

You battle with your pride for a moment.  You are sure you can make it with his support, but it would be so much faster if he did all of the walking.  “Fuck it, carry me.”  The defeat evident in your voice.

He gently sweeps you up into his arms and you settle against his chest.  This feels much nicer than you are willing to admit.  

“You know, it won’t kill you to ask for help occasionally.  If you had let Natasha go with you in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.  Or if you had your coms on the whole time, we could have been there sooner.  Natasha only happened upon you by chance.  What if she hadn’t found you in time?”

“Oh my God, Steve.  You’ve just been saving that up since the mission haven’t you?  I’m beginning to think you enjoy lecturing me.”

“I don’t, actually.  If you would actually listen to me for a change, I wouldn’t have to.”  He stopped outside of your door before gently setting you down.  “You could have gotten yourself killed.  I’m tired of always worrying about you.  I’m getting really tired of yelling at you for nearly dying.”

You opened your door.  “Then stop yelling at me.  I’m obviously not listening.”  You walked into your room and tried to swing the door closed behind you.  You heard his hand hit the door to stop it before he walked into the room behind you.  You turned to glare at him.  “I guess you weren’t done yet.”

“I’m done.  For now.”  At your huff of annoyance, he put his hands up in defeat.  “I’m just here to help.  Can you lift your arm with the stitches?”

“Fuck, I don’t think I can.”  You slowly lift your arm and wince when you feel the stitches pull.  “Maybe I could just go to bed?”  You sigh in disappointment.  A shower sounded like a really great idea.  They may have cleaned up your cut, but the rest of you was covered in dirt, sweat, and dried blood.  

“I can get Natasha to help? If you don’t want me to-“Steve trailed off as a blush crept up his face.  

“No, I just want to be done and get into bed.  I’ll leave my underwear on.  It will be like most of a swimsuit.”  You try to dispel the awkwardness.  “You won’t need to get in with me.  Just help me out of the shirt and wash my hair.”

Steve nods and sets his jaw.  Yes, let’s pretend this is a mission and you’re not about to get mostly naked in front of the most frustrating man you’ve ever met.  You feel yourself shiver as he steps closer to you.  You turn to face away from Steve and you feel his fingers grab the bottom of the shirt.  He inches it up your body and you lift your left arm overhead.   As he pulls it over your head, it catches on your right arm.  You lift that arm as high as it will go before the pain makes you gasp.  Unfortunately this means you are now stuck with your shirt overhead.  

“Y/N, I think it is stuck, can you turn around?  I think I can pull it while you pull your left arm back.”

“Fine, but eyes on the ceiling.”  You turn and you manage to wiggle backwards out of the shirt.  You quickly move to cover yourself as Steve blushes.

“Steve, it’s like you’ve never seen a half-naked woman before.”  

He turns quickly on his heel and heads into the bathroom while mumbling something about starting the shower.  

“Toss me a towel?”  You ask and moments later a towel flies out towards you.  You take off your pants and wrap the towel around you before heading into the bathroom.  The bathroom that used to seem a lot bigger when Steve wasn’t in there.  

“Uh, just yell when you’re ready.”  He steps out of the room before you can do more than nod.  

You manage to get your body washed off, trying to avoid your stitches.  Enjoying the hot water as it soothes your aching muscles.  You decide to try washing your hair, but you can’t manage to reach most of your head. “Damnit!”

Steve peeks his head in the door, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You open the shower door slightly to see him peeling off his shirt. You manage to squeak out, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to get my shirt wet.  Why is your hair half shampooed?”

“Uh, I thought I would try to save you the embarrassment if I could.” You smiled sheepishly at him.  

“Come here.”

You turned to face the wall of the shower and Steve began massaging his fingers in your hair.  The sensation was overwhelming and delightful and you whimpered.  You felt his fingertips falter slightly before getting back to work.  Suddenly, he dragged his fingernails lightly from your hairline to the base of your skull.  You were unable to stop the moan escaping from you.  You quickly stepped forward into the shower spray and away from his hands.  You let the water wash away all traces of the shampoo and you were about to turn off the shower before you heard Steve’s voice.

“No conditioner?” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice.  Steve knows the effect he’s had on you.

You turn to face him and in your shock, you barely remember to bring your arm back to cover your breasts.  Your mouth suddenly feels dry as you watch his eyes rise to meet yours.  

Normally you would, but the thought of him running his hands through your hair again leaves you conflicted and confused.  “Ummm, no.”

He hums slightly before leaving the bathroom.  “I’ll get you some clothes.  Get dried off.”

And we’re back to ordering me around.  You take your time toweling yourself off.  Reveling in the feel of the soft fabric against your skin.  The hot water of the shower along with the pain medication have made you light headed.  You wrap the towel around you and step hesitantly into your bedroom.  You start as you hear the door to your room close as Steve walks back into the room. You nearly drop your towel trying to catch the shirt he throws at you.  When you recover, you look up at him in confusion.  

“I thought a button up would be easier.  Put it on.”

“I’m fine with my clothes.” 

“Just put the damn shirt on, Y/N.”

You turn around as you slip the shirt on.  You let the towel slip to the floor as you do up the buttons. 

“Language, Captain.” You can’t hold back your sarcasm as you turn around to face Steve.  

He moves quickly to stand in front of you.  Heat filling up the space between you.

“Don’t,” he growls.  The word rumbling deep in his chest.  

You open your mouth to snap back at him, but you are finding it hard to string words together.  You’re sure it is just the pain medication and not how close Steve is standing to you.  You sway slightly before putting a hand out to steady yourself.  

“Y/N?”

It takes you a moment to respond because you are lost in the sensation of his skin beneath your hand.  When you stroke your thumb over his skin, the sound of his breath hitching in his chest brings you back to reality.

“I think I should lay down.”

\--

You awake in your bed hours later.  You snuggle into the material of Steve’s shirt that still smells like him before falling back to sleep.

\--

Weeks later, you’ve been cleared to return to missions.  You’ve been itching to get out of the tower and do something useful.  Thankfully, there is a mission heading out today and you are on the way to the conference room to receive your assignment.  

The mission is straightforward but will require a lot of feet on the ground, but you are the only one not assigned to this mission.  You get to sit at home, again, while the rest of the team heads out.  You can feel your anger rising as the meeting is dismissed.  

You stand up and move to the front of the room to confront Steve.  

“Why am I not going?” You try to keep your voice hushed.  You really don’t feel like having another argument in front of the team.  

“You’re injured, Y/N.” He meets your angry gaze with his own steely blue one.  

“I’ve been cleared for missions.” 

“The team needs to be at 100 percent.  I can’t have you out there risking the integrity of the mission.”

You can’t help it as your voice rises.  You’re beginning to attract the attention of the team members who haven’t left yet. “You want me to do some damn pushups to prove I’m fine.  This is bullshit!”

“Listen, kid-“ 

You interrupt and by now everyone is blatantly staring as you jab your finger at Steve. “Do not fucking call me ‘Kid’.  You might technically be nearly 100 years old, but you’ve only been awake for like 30 of those.  We are practically the same age.  I’m not some 15 year old you can ground to her room.”

And now he is yelling back at you.  “I wouldn’t treat you like a child if you didn’t act like one.  You never listen to orders.  If you would just listen, I wouldn’t need to bring you back to the tower half dead.”  His voice drops low, and you have to strain to hear him.  “I can’t do that again.” His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“That’s what this is about?  I made a bad decision.  I’ve apologized.  How many times will I have to apologize?”  You stop and cover your face with your hands.    “You know what, fuck it, I’m out.  Have fun on your mission.  Try not to get shot.”  

You run out of the conference room and back to your suite.  The tears are threatening to fall and you refuse to cry in front of your teammates.  Of course, you feel like a petulant child, running off to your room when you didn’t get your way.  

When you finally emerge from your room for dinner, the building is quiet.  

\--

You spend the next two days moping around the tower, eating ice cream, and watching horrible movies with no one to bitch about your choices.  The couch in the common room has become a nest of junk food wrappers and blankets.  

“Y/N, the quinjet is on approach.”  

Friday’s voice wakes you from your nap on the couch and you roll off in a tangle of blankets. 

“Shit,” you murmur, “this place is a mess.”  You stand and stretch, your muscles were sore from sitting in one place.  You roll up the sleeves of Steve’s shirt and gather up as much trash as you can.  You may have spent two days moping on the couch, but they didn’t need to see that.  

You dump everything in the trash and sprint back to the couch, flinging yourself over the back as you hear footsteps in the hall.  You try to nonchalantly rearrange yourself on the couch.  Waving and saying hi to the team as they head through the room on the way back to theirs.  

You realize Steve hadn’t come through and you stop Natasha with your question. “Uh, where’s Steve?”  You hoped that sounded like you didn’t really care.

She cocked an eyebrow at your question.  “He had to go to medical.  He took quite a beating.”  In your shock, you didn’t notice her smirk as she turned to go to her room.

When she was out of sight, you leapt from the couch and ran towards medical. Impatiently pacing as the elevator made its slow descent.  When the elevator opened up, you took off running again, but stopped short when you noticed Steve walking down the hallway.  He had a small bandage on his forehead.  You mentally curse Natasha when you realize she grossly overstated the extent of his injuries.  Fucking spies.  

The look on Steve’s face is mostly confusion as you stand silently in the hallway.  

“I’m sorry.  For what I said.  Natasha said you were hurt and I, I was worried what I said to you was going to be the last thing I ever said to you.  I’ve actually worried about that for the last two days.  You just push every single one of my buttons and I have no idea why.  You are the most infuriating human being I’ve ever met.  Everything you do frustrates me.  I shouldn’t let it.  Why do you drive me so crazy?”  The words leave you in a rush.  You only have a moment of recognition that Steve is now standing too close before he grabs you in his arms and kisses you.  

The kiss consumes you.  He is the only thing you can think about as you wind your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.  All of your frustration and anger and worry come pouring out of you into the kiss.  Apparently yelling at someone is a poor substitute for kissing them senseless.

When he pulls away, you want to tell him that, but all you can manage is a breathless, “Oh, that’s why.”

Steve smiles before kissing you again.  

“I was so worried you were going to be gone before we got back.  When we finished, I was in such a rush and so distracted I ran into the Quinjet.”  He chuckles softly as he gestures to the cut on his forehead.

“You’re an idiot.” You say with a smile on your face.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” His hand playing with the collar.

You freeze in surprise.  You had forgotten what you were wearing. “I am.”  

Steve leans down to whisper in your ear, “I want it back.”  

The timbre of his voice sends a thrill down your spine.  Two can play at this game.  You look up at him from under your lashes.  A soft smile playing on your face.  “If you want the shirt back, you’ll have to take it off of me.”

“Gladly,” he growls before lifting you so you can wrap your legs around his waist and carries you to his room.  

 


End file.
